


Marvel Galleries

by bovaria



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Car Accidents, Character Death, Drama, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Multi, Suicide, alternate universe- 1950s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:50:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bovaria/pseuds/bovaria
Summary: This is the love story between Bucky Barnes, heir of Marvel Galleries, one of the most prestigious fashion stores in the 1950s, and you, a seamstress employed in those same galleries.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Authors: Tesla (bovaria) and Kayla (romanovoff)
> 
> A/N: Alright, guys, let’s get ready for this rollercoaster of a fic. It’s gonna be crazy, it’s gonna be wild, it’s gonna be amazing and we are stoked for it! The characters here are wholly based on the show Velvet, so they might not resemble the ones we know in the MCU. Hope you all enjoy! Oh, also, Kay and I put ourselves into the fic as two of your best friends lol.-Tesla
> 
> OH MY GOD, YOU GUYS! This is super exciting. Tesla and I worked ourselves like crazy for a few days to get this together and it’s the single longest thing I’ve ever written. We both absolutely adore this story and we’ve been giddy for a solid week about it. There are so many twists and turns. I know it’s long but I promise if you stick to it, you’ll fall as much in love as we have! Hope you enjoy and please don’t hesitate to tell us what you think! - Kayla

“Alright, we’re on in five! Four! Three! Two!”

The radio announcer rapidly cleared his throat before he began the live broadcast, an excited energy in his voice, the same enthusiasm spread across the country’s capital as one of the most important nights in the fashion world began.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! This very night is the awaited fashion show from no other than Marvel Fashion Stores. Specialized in haute couture, the galleries will be opening its doors to the country’s top personalities. Designing exclusive models for Marvel Galleries, famous designers like Chanel, Balenciaga, and Yves Saint Laurent will be attending the fashion show this evening.

“Once again, the impeccability of every detail and grandeur of its show goes to showcase that Marvel Galleries is all about quality, luxury, and elegance. Located in the heart of the capital of our beautiful nation, it holds prominent importance in the fashion world and everyone is eager to see what Marvel’s founder and president, George Barnes, will be showing the world tonight.”

 

* * *

Climbing out of a beautiful, wine-red ’55 Chrysler Imperial, George Barnes straightened his suit out and smiled at the flashing cameras. Before him was the red carpet, but he turned back to the car and held out his hand. From the shadows within the vehicle, a hand took his own and Gloria Barnes (née Romanoff) stepped out of the car. Her eyes met George’s and they shared a smile.

They were soon followed by Natasha Barnes, a beautiful redhead with a perpetual smirk and a seductive gait. Her hair pinned up for the occasion, she sported the latest in her father’s fashion store and effortlessly posed for the cameras.

The last one to step out was James Buchanan

Barnes. Unlike his younger half-sister, he hadn’t been the center of attention in so long. Pulling at his tux jacket to make sure it was presentable, he shot the cameras the sincerest smile he could muster as he followed his father and stepmother onto the red carpet, Natasha right beside him. He dutifully wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Mr. Barnes! Mr. Barnes!” called out a journalist, his voice rising above the already-raucous yells surrounding the family.

George Barnes turned himself to meet the journalist’s eyes and made a gesture for the man to ask whatever it was he wanted to inquire from him.

“Sir, now that your son has returned from studying abroad after a long time, are the rumors that he will be taking over the galleries true?”

Bucky gave a laugh from behind his father. “If you think my father will be retiring anytime soon, you don’t know him at all.”

George smiled at this and continued his way, Gloria following his steps. They turned once again when another journalist called out.

“What do you expect from this fashion show, Mr. Barnes?”

“To make our clients happy, as we have always done,” answered George. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…” He gave a polite nod to the throng of journalists before turning back to his wife and stepping inside the building.

A large, seven-story building, Marvel Galleries was anything but insignificant. Housing the latest in the 50s fashion trends, every woman in the country longed to one day own a dress from this place. It was the epitome of elegance and class, its employees only the best, its designers the most sought after. George Barnes felt pride swell his chest up as he stepped into the galleries. Guests, employees, and friends alike were awaiting him and his family inside. They clapped for him, for his achievements, and he bowed his head thankfully at them, stepping further inside the building.

Bucky let go of Natasha’s waist, not chancing her a second glance as she followed her parents, instead staying at the very entrance of the turning doors. He smiled as the people he had known in his childhood continued clapping. There were a lot of new faces, but one stood out above them all.

Tony Stark whispered into the ear of a giggling girl before he sauntered over to his best friend. Bucky gave him a beaming smile. They shook hands as Tony leaned into Bucky.

“I have two girls waiting for me outside, if you’re gonna join in, I can always look for two more.”

Bucky gave a laugh and squeezed Tony’s hand. “How are you, Tony?”

Tony shrugged. “I’m just happy that you’re here.”

They shared another smile before Bucky excused himself to walk up to his father.

“We’ll talk later!” called out Tony, a wide smile still on his handsome face.

Bucky’s smile fell as he approached his father, but George seemed to be none the wiser. “Are you prepared?” he asked his son. “I want you to present the show tonight.”

Bucky hung his head, knowing that his decision would disappoint his father. Again. “Can we talk for a minute. In private?”

George stiffened. “What is it?”

“In private,” reiterated Bucky.

Taking a deep breath, George saw that he had no other option and gestured for Bucky to follow him towards one of the elevators. They stood side by side in silence, waiting for the lift to arrive. Once it did, George pressed the ‘Seventh Floor’ button as Bucky stepped inside with him. The silence didn’t break until they got out of the elevator and walked down the corridor that led to George’s office.

All the lights were off, but the curtains were parted sufficiently enough to let some of the bright lights from the city seep through. George Barnes knew this wasn’t going to end pretty, he had learned to know his son.

After a few minutes, they returned to the lobby and George gave one last seething glare before a happy expression masked the anger within. Gloria looked at him with concerned, but he brushed off her questioning glances and mingled with the guests, thanking them for attending the most important event of the year.

Meanwhile, Natasha could clearly see the tension between her father and half-brother. Wearing a knowing smirk, she ambled over to Bucky, taking on the persona of a concerned sibling. “Problems with dad? It sure looks like it.”

Bucky turned to stare at her, his expression momentarily serious before he smiled warmly at her and leaned into her to give her a kiss to the cheek. Without another word, he walked away from her and left her in the middle of the room.

Natasha’s back was straight and she tried her best to seem nonchalant, looking around. Her eyes met that of a few people and she gave them a smile that she desperately hoped didn’t showcase any of her emotions.

Having walked away from Natasha, Bucky made sure to stand as far away from his odious family as possible. His hands in his pockets, he let his eyes roam over the room, focusing on nothing yet everything at once. Unbeknownst to him, his presence was immediately noticed by Wanda Maximoff.

She beamed at the sight of him and turned to face him, still a few feet away from him. “I was afraid your father would command your attention all night.” She knew her voice had carried above the music playing and sure enough, Bucky’s head turned around at the sound of it.

The grave look he had been wearing fell to give way to an elated smile as he quickly made his way over to her. Wrapping an arm around her waist, Bucky kissed her cheek. “Hello, Wanda! How are you?”

Wanda pulled away from him and gave a deep sigh, rolling her eyes. “I absolutely hate these parties. They are incredibly boring.” Yet a smile graced her beautiful lips. “But now I have you here to keep me company, thank the heavens.”

Bucky chuckled before he took on a somber expression. “Don’t think I’m the best company either.”

Wanda gave him a once-over, clearly checking him out. She shot him a flirtatious smile. “Well, you let me be the judge of that.”

Bucky followed her eyes as she looked around the room, her intentions becoming clearer with every second that passed. It had always been obvious that Wanda Maximoff had been in love with Bucky Barnes from the first moment she laid eyes on him.

“You know,” she drawled out, gracefully crossing her arms. “If we get bored, we can always look for other types of entertainment.” She cocked a brow at her own words. “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter?”

Bucky smirked. “The show is about to start.”

“Don’t tell your father,” she said in a lower voice, leaning forward to make sure only Bucky heard her words. “But I didn’t come for the dresses.”

She kept her eyes trained on him, making sure they conveyed exactly what she wanted her words to mean, as she began to walk away from him, all the while keeping her glance trained on his. A few steps and she veered about, chancing him one last loaded look before turning away.

Bucky’s smile fell as he was once again left alone. The elevator doors to his far right opened and Wanda stepped inside. She continued looking at him as she pressed a button and the doors began to close. Her intentions were clear and it was obvious that she wanted him to follow.

Yet Bucky didn’t budge as he brought the champagne glass up to his lips. He didn’t really want to spend the night with Wanda.

Just then, a figure clad in a[ red dress](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fs-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com%2F564x%2F4b%2F7e%2F6f%2F4b7e6ffa56a6d5c39562419d39f7cff4.jpg&t=ZTk3MjQ3NjgxZmI0ZWY0NDM1NjljNDZjODhmMDVhYTg3OWI1NzYxYSxNSHU2YWZTQQ%3D%3D&b=t%3AQbJbp5_dzeCEEpnbu_jTVQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fbovaria.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157081316587%2Fmarvel-galleries-part-1&m=1) appeared and Bucky’s heart skipped a beat.

* * *

Heart hammering in your chest, you willed your hands to stop shaking as you stepped out of the galleries’ backroom, clad in a beautiful red dress. The room was full of people you did not know, of people that belonged in a world that you only saw through a glass when clients tried on the dresses you made for them.

And yet now, you couldn’t help but to feel like Cinderella as none of them chanced you a glance. You were one of them tonight. You didn’t stick out.

Yet your head turned about the room and your eyes met that of James Barnes and you felt your throat dry up. He seemed just as shocked to see you there and you looked away from him, making your way towards the elevators.

You didn’t see Bucky’s beaming smile as you turned away and he quickly grabbed two glasses and an uponened bottle of champagne. His steps were quick as he followed you into the elevator before the doors closed.

But you weren’t alone and Bucky had to hold back the smile that was bursting from within him. He looked on the older lady beside you and nodded politely. “Which floor?”

“The third,” answered the lady.

“The powder room,” you answered, tearing your gaze away from his.

Bucky turned towards the elevator’s buttons and pressed the third floor before pressing the fourth. “The powder room is in the fourth floor,” he pointed out, stepping behind you and the lady. “You must be the only woman to not know where the powder room is.” He kept his eyes trained on you, whilst you tried to seem nonchalant about the whole situation. “Don’t you know our store?” he inquired, genuine curiosity in his voice.

You shook your head. “I’m sorry, no.”

He continued. “But you’re wearing one of the most iconic dresses of our collection. Or am I wrong, miss?”

You heaved a sigh, feeling the lady’s eyes on you as well as Bucky’s.

“Oh. I see, I see,” said Bucky, a tiny smile on his lips. “You’re not going to answer any of my questions.”

You looked at the lady and she tried not to smile as she noticed the obvious flirtatious air between Bucky and you.

Bucky tore his eyes away from you to look at the lady. “Well, I’ll have to guess the answers.” The older lady met his eyes and Bucky gave a silent laugh before she turned back around and he focused on you once again.

“I can guess from your accent that you’re from here. There’s no ring on your finger, so I’m sure there is no husband waiting for you downstairs at the party. Oh! And you’re not wearing any jewels, which says a lot about you. You’re a simple woman.”

You took a deep breath and kept your eyes trained on the doors in front of you, trying your hardest not to smile.

“Am I right in everything I’ve said?” Bucky inquired. At your silence, Bucky gave out a proud laugh. “I’m right!” he told the lady, who could only smile at his bubbly disposition.

“Quite observant of you,” you finally said.

“One thing we have in common,” replied Bucky. “Because you should admit that you like observing just as much as I do.”

“You’re quite right,” you admitted.

Bucky bit his bottom lip and smirked. “So, admit you were looking at me.”

You scoffed to yourself, hiding your smile behind your hand. “You’re quite wrong. I wasn’t looking at you, I was looking at the party. In fact, please congratulate your father on it. Believe it or not, not everything revolves around you.”

Bucky just smiled as the doors opened and the older lady stepped out, shooting the two of you one last glance before disappearing around the corner.

As she left, you stepped back to stand next to Bucky, pressing the button that would close the doors sooner.

Once you were alone once again, Bucky turned to stare at you and you could only smile at yourself. He could see the amusement in your eyes and soon, you were looking at each other face to face.

And just like that, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Taking Bucky’s face in your hands, you crashed your lips to his and pushed him until his back hit the elevator’s wall. He kissed back just as eagerly, holding you close to himself.

Finally.

* * *

Tesla quickly made her way to the room she shared with you, flinging the door opened and slipping inside. She whistled. “Well, don’t you look lovely?” She looked down at the opened suitcase at the foot of your bed. “What are you doing.”

“Don’t ask, Tes,” you answered, continuing to pack up your clothes.

Tesla’s heart sank. “You’re leaving, huh?”

“Yes!” you answered, a wide smile on your lips. Once everything was inside, you locked the suitcase and grabbed an envelope from your night table. “Give this to my uncle, please,” you said, handing it to Tesla.

Tesla looked like she wanted to say something, but she remained quiet and followed you to the bedroom door. Despite your excitement, you paused and looked back at her, setting your luggage on the floor. There was sadness in her eyes and you felt that same emotion tug at your chest. Despite feeling elated about what was about to happen, you felt sad that you had to part from your best friend.

“I love you,” you said, wrapping arms around her.

She hugged you back tightly. “Likewise, sweetie. You take care, okay?”

You nodded and pecked her cheek one last time before stepping out of the room. Running down the corridors, you made sure no one was around to spot you as you made your way towards the employees’ entrance of the gallery. If someone did see you, your whole plan would fail and that would be the end of everything.

On your way there, you dropped the scarf that came with the dress, yet were in too much of a hurry to pick it back up. Bucky was waiting for you.

As soon as you set foot outside, a paper airplane hit the hem of your dress and you smiled at it before your head lifted and met Bucky’s elated eyes.

You ran to each other and met halfway, Bucky taking the suitcase from your hands.

“Did anyone follow you here?” he asked, quickly leading you to the car. Opening the trunk, he placed the suitcase inside.

“No,” you answered, scurrying over to the passenger’s side and climbing inside. Bucky clambered into the driver’s seat and the engine roared to life.

“Are you sure no one saw you?” he asked again.

“Yes, I’m sure.” Smiling, you cupped his jaw and pressed a deep kiss to his lips. “Come on, let’s go!” you urged him once you pulled away.

Bucky laughed as he pressed his foot to the gas and the car lurched forward.

The city soon melted away and you were met with the long country road. Bucky’s arm draped over your shoulder as he kept the other one on the wheel. The long front seat allowed you to slide closer to Bucky and you leaned against his side, sharing a brief kiss before he focused back on the road.

“Do you trust me?” he asked you.

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, without an ounce of doubt in your voice.

“It’ll all work out, you’ll see,” he promised.

The road stretched out before you. You felt like the puzzles of your life were finally falling into place. But before anything else could happen, you gasped as Bucky ceased to focus on keeping the vehicle on a straight path. The car suddenly veered to the left before lurching to its right and crashed against a large boulder, folding like an accordion against the unyielding stone.

Bucky was out cold, blood now covering his forehead, his face pressed to the steering wheel. You were unresponsive as well, the blood from your nose matching the same brilliant red of your dress as it flowed down your chest. Through it all, however, your fingers remained tangled with his. Even in the darkness, you couldn’t let him go.

* * *

**Twenty Years Earlier**

Church bells rang loud in your ears, taunting you with each heavy, booming echo that scraped against your brain as you stood at your mother’s grave, watching as her casket was lowered into the ground. You were young, no more than seven years old but you knew that things would never be the same without her.

“Almighty God designed to take our late sister from this world, we commit her body to the Earth,” the preacher recited the prayer that you’d already heard one too many times over the course of your young life, “Earth to Earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Trusting in the resurrection of eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

The prayer continued as you were pulled away by your caregiver before the tears had a chance to well up in your wide eyes. A silent farewell was whispered to your mother with one last glance at the wooden box in the dirt as you made to wait for the bus.

Your uncle in the Capital was the only family that you had, even if it wasn’t really by blood, and without a second thought, you were sent away from your small town, to the bustling city where he resided. All you knew was the country, the quiet place that you’d spent your whole life. It was your comfort zone, it was home and you didn’t want to leave that behind.

The ride was long and boring over time, leaving you nothing more than to fall asleep on the small vehicle after you’d run out of ways to entertain yourself. You made up this new life in your dreams; one that you were unprepared to live. One where you ran through the fancy fashion store you were told by your caregiver that your uncle owned, surrounded by rich, glamorous people in a world that you knew you didn’t belong to and had no business joining.

The next morning, you arrived to a place that you believed to be unreal. The crowds of people and beautifully constructed buildings were all very overwhelming. With no guardian present, you stepped off the bus and looked around the station until a vaguely familiar face finally came into view.

“You resemble your mother,” your uncle spoke as he came to a stop in front of you. A mixed expression of guilt and grief took over his features as you thanked him, not knowing what more to say. He took your suitcase while making insignificant small talk and started walking away with you running to catch up. Once you could reach him, you tugged on the back of his coat, making him stop and look down at you with sad, tight lipped smile tugging at his lips before he took your hand.

“This is the store,” he broke the silence the two of you had held for the duration of the walk as you approached a large, luxurious building.

The massive front windows held mannequins with the prettiest dresses you’d ever seen draped over their bodies, each one looking expensive and expertly made. You were drawn to the entrance, knowing that’s where you were to spend your days, but the tug on your hand as you went for the door took you back a couple of steps.

“No, no. Not that way.” Your uncle chastised you as he brought you around the side of the building to the staff entrance in an alleyway. “This way.”

You stepped inside, walking past a few employees that were going about their days. A man plucking through a stack of mail while a beautiful woman smiled as she talked on the phone at the counter. You took in your new, yet ordinary surroundings but something caught your eye.

A workroom filled with women in white coats made you linger a bit. There were gorgeous fabrics in rolls lining the walls, sprawled out on tables, being stitched together with sewing machines, and pinned to mannequins. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen before. Everything in that moment seemed to move in slow motion. Your breath was stolen, there was a longing pulling at your heart and you wanted nothing more than to be inside that room.

“Come on,” your uncle’s voice pulled you back into reality as he tugged your hand slightly, leading you to an empty corridor with dark blue doors lining the path. “In you go,” he spoke, ushering you to one of the rooms.

It was small and simple; there were two beds, a desk and a wardrobe. You stood there clutching your suitcase, your mind still in the workroom as your uncle told you where to put your things.

Sleep didn’t find you that night, you laid in bed with a music box that housed a photo of your mother. Staring into the darkness of the room, you let out a small sigh before sneaking out of your bed, leaving the box behind. You tiptoed through the halls, being sure that no one was around as you made your way to the one place your heart was telling you to go.

The workroom was different at night. Projects sat lonely without their creators, fabrics and tools spread out over the tables as if they’d been abandoned. Walking through the room, you saw sketches of the same breathtaking red dress you’d seen one of the women working on earlier that day tucked under other drawings and spools of thread. Though you were too young at the moment, you knew that you wanted a dress just like that one day.

You walked through the room, touching everything that fascinated you. Smiling a bit as you watch the sewing machine come to life by order of your fingertips. Eyeing the rainbow rows of thread lined up in a glass case, you picked up a spool of red thread, before making your way through a set of double doors to the other half of the room where the red dress stood proudly. You’d almost froze in place when you saw it up close. Just as you reached out to touch it, the lights flickered on.

“Take your filthy hands off that dress!” A tall woman with brown eyes yelled as she stomped over to where you stood, gripping your arm tightly, dragging you through the room. “Do you know how much silk from London costs? You’ll never have enough money to buy a yard of it. Who said you could go in there?”

“I thought it was empty,” you explained as she snatched the spool of thread from your small hand.

“And you were going to steal?” She angrily screamed, tightening her grip.

“No!” You quickly defended yourself, a hint of an attitude in your voice.

“Don’t speak to me in that tone,” she chastised you as your uncle stepped into the room, his hands folded in front of him.

“Is there a problem?” he asked, remaining calm despite the rage rolling off of the woman before him.

“She’s the problem,” she snapped, pointing at you, “she was in my workroom, I’m calling the police.”

“Don’t bother,” he replied, glancing down at you with disappointment swirling in his eyes. “She’s my niece.”

“Your niece?” She asked, tugging on your ear to ensure that you wouldn’t run off. “What is she doing here? You think she can just come here as if this were your house?”

Your uncle took a deep breath, he knew that someone would find out eventually but he’d hoped to talk to the owner himself before things got out of hand. “Her parents are dead, she has no one.”

“She can’t stay here, you know the rules.” The woman quirked a brow at your uncle, showing not even a shred of sympathy.

“I believe your daughter could’ve stayed with her grandmother,” he challenged back and for a split second, there was a hesitation etched into the woman’s face.

“Rules are rules,” she paused, “they have to be kept.” With that, she said no more. After releasing your ear, the woman stormed off and back to her room, leaving you to your uncle.

“I’ll deal with you tomorrow,” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Go to bed.”

* * *

The next morning, your uncle woke you early, ordering you get dressed and walk with him towards the elevators. You were nervous, sensing the nervous aura about him and bit your lip, looking down at your feet as the lift took you up to the seventh floor.

The doors parted and before you stood a long corridor, the right side lined with chairs. At the end was a desk, where a woman was typing away on her typewriter. Your uncle placed a hand on your shoulder and gently pushed you forward with him.

At the sound of steps approaching, the woman looked up and gave him a smile. He bid her good morning. “I would like to speak with Mr. Barnes, please,” he said.

The secretary nodded. “He’s currently busy, but if you want to wait…” She gestured towards the chairs available right outside the office.

Your uncle nodded and you followed him to the plush leather chairs, brown in their color. “Sit down,” he ordered, taking his own seat next to you.

“Who are we going to see?” you asked, genuine curiosity taking a hold of you.

“Mister George Barnes,” your uncle answered. “He owns the store.”

You felt your heart drop. “I wasn’t going to steal, uncle!”

He gave you a stern look. “You shouldn’t have gone into the workroom without permission. Not there, nor anywhere else.”

You looked away from him and back to your shoes, the door to the office opening a few seconds later. From within emerged a girl about four years old, holding her mother’s hand.

“Good morning,” greeted the woman. Your uncle bowed his head in respect and the woman continued on her way.

A few steps behind her was a boy two, or three, years older than you. Dark brown hair slicked back, he looked impeccable in his clothes. Your eyes met briefly before he kept walking behind the woman. Yet he turned around right before arriving to the elevator. He wore a smile, yet you couldn’t make yourself return the gesture, too nervous about what the owner of the store would say about your night excursions.

“Bucky!” the woman called out. The boy followed after her.

“Who is that?” you asked your uncle.

“James Barnes,” he answered. “Mr. George Barnes’ son.”

“Mr. Fury,” the secretary called out. “You can go in now.”

Your uncle stood up, holding out his hand for you. “Alright, come along now.”

You took his hand and followed him into the office. Lavishly decorated, the curtains were opened to reveal the bustling city below. From afar, you could pick up on the sounds of cars honking and the life buzzing within the busy city. You looked towards the desk and your throat dried up.

“Nick!” the man behind the desk exclaimed.

“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Barnes,” said your uncle.

“Don’t apologize, for God’s sake,” said Mr. Barnes, waving your uncle’s apology away. He looked up from the paperwork he was looking through and you instinctively hid behind your uncle. “Who is this young lady?”

“My niece,” your uncle replied. “She is the daughter of my adopted sister. She is here because her mother died this week.”

Mr. Barnes took a long drag of a thick cigar before setting it down on the ashtray. “Heavens, I’m very sorry to hear that.” Clutching a stack of papers in his hands, he got on his feet and rounded about the desk as he spoke. “If you need anything, I will be glad to help if it’s within my reach.”

“That’s precisely what I want to talk to you about, Mr. Barnes,” said your uncle. “The child has nowhere else to go, I’m her only family left and I was wondering if…” He paused for a second before clearing his throat. “If she could stay here and live with me.”

“Here in the galleries?” asked Mr. Barnes. He heaved a sigh at your uncle’s silence. “Nick, this is a business. We have rules and if we have them, it’s because of a reason. If I accept your request and let her live here, how can I tell other employees that they can’t bring their relatives?”

“So, tell me, what do I do? Do I leave her in the street or in an orphanage?”

“I would like to help you, Nick. But I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Your uncle looked quite disappointed at his boss, but still turned around and opened the door of the office. “Come on,” he told you, leading you out of the room.

His steps were loud and angry as you walked down the corridor together, but halfway there, he suddenly stopped. He turned to look down at you. Taking your shoulders, he guided you to take a seat and gave you a gentle smile. “Don’t move. I will be right back,” he ordered you before straightening up and walking back into Mr. Barnes’ office.

Nick Fury closed the door behind himself as George Barnes looked up with a quirked brow. “Have we finished this conversation?”

“No,” replied Nick. “I haven’t.”

George sighed before focusing his attention back on the papers in his hands.

Taking a step forward, Nick Fury looked down at his boss. “You know I respect your family,” he began. “And you know I respect you. We have been through alot together, some good, others not so much. But I’ve always been loyal to you.”

“And that is why you have my esteem, Nick,” said George, still not looking up.

“I am also hoping to have your help.” Nick’s words made George pause his reading. “I have never asked you for anything.”

At this, George Barnes looked up and folded the papers in half. “So, this is the price of your loyalty and silence?”

* * *

You sat waiting for your uncle, back straight and in silence. Just then, the elevator doors at the end of the hallway opened up and your head veered to look at it curiously. No one seemed to be inside and you turned back to look at the wall in front of you.

From inside flew out a paper airplane, expertly made, and it landed a couple of seats from you. The rustling of the paper caught your attention, as well as the secretary’s. Yet she quickly focused back on her paperwork.

The boy you had seen a few minutes ago, whom your uncle had informed you was James Barnes, son of the store’s owner, peeked his head out from inside the lift. He smiled at you before throwing another airplane at you. It landed close to the window behind the secretary. She looked up, momentarily puzzled by the sound and you covered your mouth to conceal a giggle.

Yet another airplane flew and this one hit your arm before falling to the ground. You picked it up and looked at the boy again. He motioned for you to go to him.

Without a second’s hesitation, you jumped off your seat and ran into the elevator. As soon as you were inside, you were pulled towards one of the walls, concealing you from the secretary’s eyes as she looked up to see what had occurred.

The lift’s door opened to the second floor of the galleries.

“My name is Bucky,” said the boy in a low voice. “What’s yours?”

“Y/N,” you replied.

“Y/N,” he repeated, beaming at you. “Follow me!”

At this, he quickly got on his hands and knees and began to crawl out of the elevator. You had no choice but to follow after him, intrigued by this boy you didn’t know yet felt a pull to. He had a kind disposition about him and seemed fun to be with. You didn’t even think of how angry your uncle would be if he found out you had left your place when he had explicitly told you to stay put.

The store’s workers were in the middle of getting the lobby ready for the launch of the year’s new collection. There was enough moving and bustling about that the presence of two unsupervised children went without notice.

Bucky led you to the rail that allowed those who were on the second floor to look down at the first and he looked around, making sure no one was looking for either of you.

“What are they doing?” you asked him as you focused on a couple of women talking as one of them held large bouquets of white flowers.

“They’re getting ready for tonight,” he answered. “There’s going to a be a fashion show here. It’s the first time they are doing it and they are all hysterical.”

His head snapped to look at an adult woman turning around the corner and walking towards you, and without another word he spun on his heel and began to ran. You followed right behind him.

You ended up crouched on the floor, peeking through the metal bars of the rail down at the first floor.

“Bucky!” called out a woman’s voice. “Bucky, where are you?”

“Your mother,” you told him.

He grimaced. “She’s not my mother. She’s my stepmother, my mom is dead.”

“So is mine,” you said.

* * *

**Eight Years Later**

“I love that dress!” you told Bucky. You had reunited with Bucky in the same place you always did when the fashion show’s rehearsals began.

“Did you sew it?” he asked you.

“Only the hem,” you replied. “They only let me sew hems. But my uncle says that if I put in a lot of effort and work hard, I could become a cutter. And maybe even work with a designer.”

“Which designer?”

“Um… Jimmy Winter!” you said with a large smile.

“Who’s Jimmy Winter?” Bucky inquired.

You gave a laugh. “Nobody, but it sounds good. I like the name. Like it will fit right in with the famous designers in France. All famous designers are from France, they all work and live in Paris.”

Bucky kept his eyes on you and gave you a smile. “So, we’ll have to go to Paris.”

You grinned. “So it seems. Do you speak French?” you asked, your voice lower now that Bucky’s face was so close to your own.

“I know what they taught me in school,” he replied, his words almost a whisper.

“Well, I’m not going to school, so you’ll have to teach me French,” you kept talking even when Bucky’s face came close to yours. His eyes were half-hooded and before you were even done talking, his lips were pressed against yours.

Bucky felt his heart soar. He had been wanting to do that for quite a long time. And he felt even more elated when he felt that you were kissing back. He smiled against your mouth and continued to kiss you until applause from below pulled you away from each other.

Despite you wanting nothing more than to stay there with Bucky and kiss him forever, you got up from the floor. “I have to go back to the workroom and help the girls,” you told him before quickly running off before you could get caught by anyone.

Bucky watched you leave and took a deep breath, turning around to lay on his back. A happy smile danced on his lips as he folded his hands behind his head.

A few hours later, you were moving dresses about the lobby, helping wherever you were called, when a paper airplane hit your shoulder. Bending down to pick it up, you opened it and smiled at the familiar handwriting there.

I’ll wait for you at ten at night.

Looking up, you were met with the sight of a smiling Bucky, dressed to the nines for the fashion show tonight.  You smiled at him before pocketing the airplane in order to get back to work.

Five minutes to ten, you were in your room, packing up everything you could. Folding your clothes as neatly and rapidly as you could, you felt your heart hammer in your chest at the excitement of it all. You slammed the suitcase closed and took it in your arms, running out of your room and down the hallway to the store’s back entrance.

Bucky was waiting just outside, his lips splitting into a large smile as he saw you through the door’s oval window. You quickly stepped out and stepped into his arms, your mouths crashing together in a deep kiss.

“Let’s go,” said Bucky, forehead pressed to yours.

“Let’s go,” you whispered back.

Unbeknownst to either of you, Mr. Barnes turned about the corner, seething at the sight of you the two of you. “Let’s go where, exactly?” he asked.

His voice startled the two of you and Bucky stepped forward, pushing you to stand behind his frame. But that didn’t help, and with anger in his eyes, Mr. Barnes approached the two of you. He pushed you away from Bucky and grabbed his son by the arm, dragging him into the building. He brought a hand down to smack Bucky upside the head before forcing him to follow him around the corner and surely towards the elevators that would take him up to his office.

Your uncle was right behind him, disappointment clearly etched on his face.

Up on the seventh floor, George Barnes could barely hold in the anger within him. He opened the door to his office with force as he gripped Bucky’s elbow hard enough to have the boy wince. “Running off with the niece of the head of sales staff! Tell me! What am I to do?” Gloria Barnes (née Romanoff) walked into the office behind them, arms crossed over her chest.

Bucky gritted his teeth before mustering up all his courage in front of the one man that he almost always tried to make proud. “I love her, father! I want to be with her.”

George Barnes bared his teeth in anger, hand rising as Bucky cowered back. “I’ve told you a thousand times before. Things are not that simple! There are barriers that shouldn’t be crossed and worlds that can’t be—”

“I don’t care who she is, where she comes from,” declared Bucky.

George gave a dry scoff, sharing a look with his wife before turning back to his oldest son. “This is over.”

Bucky’s heart dropped. “What are you going to do? Are you going to throw her out?”

But it wasn’t George who replied. “Tomorrow you will be leaving to London,” said Gloria.

“You are no one to tell me what to do,” spat Bucky.

George slammed his hands on the desk. “You will do as I say!”

The action made Bucky pull back, yet he set his lips in a hard line. “You can’t make me.”

“I can, I am your father,” said George, voice rising. “Everything you have is because of me. You owe me everything!”

“I owe you nothing!” Not waiting for a response, Bucky stormed out of the office.

George kept his eyes on his son until he disappeared, then turned to his wife. Gloria only shook her head, clearly disappointed with her husband. She sighed. “Not even he understands why you don’t get rid of her and her uncle.”

George remained silent as her wife stepped out of the room.

* * *

Bucky ran down the stairs and towards the employees’ dormitories. With tears in his eyes, he located your room and began to bang his hands down on the door. He screamed out your name, voice desperate, time and time again.

From inside, you could hear the racket he was making and you jumped off the bed and towards the door, sobbing out to him. But your uncle grabbed you by the arm and pulled you back. He dragged you towards the furthermost corner of the room, all the while Bucky’s voice tore through the air, full of pain as he called out for you.

“Don’t you dare call out to him,” ordered your uncle, pointing a finger at you.

You cried, sliding down against the wall until you were sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to your chest. Your cheeks wet with tears, you wrapped arms around your legs and cried.

When your uncle finally opened the door, there was a paper airplane just outside. But you couldn’t do anything as you watched him step on it before kicking it away.

* * *

**Eleven Years Later**

“Y/N! Y/N, we will be late again!” one of your closest friends, Helen Cho, called out. She knocked on your door and she put on the white robe that all seamstresses in the shop wore.

“Coming!” you called out.

Tesla emerged from the bathroom all the women shared, carrying her make-up bag with her. Brushing past Helen after sharing a smile, she opened the door to the room she shared with you.

“Come on! It’s right now, not tomorrow!” exclaimed Tesla as the scene inside the room revealed you sitting on the bed, sewing the hem of a dress that had come undone.

You sighed and draped the dress over your arm as you got on your feet. “I was just finishing this.” You told your friends, putting the dress on a chair and grabbing your seamstress’ robe.

“I don’t know how you can sew for yourself after all the hours we spend in the workroom,” said Tesla.

You stepped out of the room, closely followed by Helen. Tesla trailed a few steps behind, grabbing her robe before running up to the two of you.

“Mrs. Carter is probably in the workroom already,” said Helen. “Do you think she’ll double our workload for being late?”

“That dress…” piped up Tesla.

“Who said it’s for me?” You quirked a brow at her, taking your employee card and punching in.

“Well, then?” she asked.

“Two dollars for altering it,” you said in a low voice.

“What?” exclaimed Tesla. “Are you insane? If Mrs. Carter finds out, she could fire you!”

“Will you be the one telling her?”

Tesla scoffed and shook her head, punching in right after you. Helen followed suit and the three of you were walking towards the workroom when Tesla stopped by the stairs that led up to the lobby of the store.

Her sister, Kayla, stood on them, one foot propped up on a higher step in order to fix her stockings.

“Are those stockings made of glass?” asked Tesla, her voice dripping sarcasm.

Unlike her sister, Kayla was one of the sales assistant upstairs. “Yes!” she replied with a large smile. “I bought them yesterday. Like ‘em?” She popped a hip at them and trailed a hand up her leg.

“Your wages go far, huh?”

Kayla gave her a grin. “No, but my wonderful sister makes my dresses.” She descended the stairs and grabbed Tesla’s chin, clearly meaning that she was talking to her.

Tesla frowned. “I’d bet she’d like some sheer stockings.”

“I’ll buy you some,” said Kayla absently, still assessing how she looked. Unlike her younger sister, Kayla was obsessed with how she looked and flaunted her assets proudly.

“Alright,” said Tesla, walking away from her sister and going where the rest of the seamstresses were gathered. She walked up to you and Helen. “That woman. She works half of what we work and gets paid double. But that’s how it is. When we were born, God distributed the luck and he gave the good luck to her.”

Suddenly, Steve Rogers, Marvel Galleries’ very own errand boy, turned around the corner, arms held high in the air. “Why did no one tell me they put a flower garden in store?” he asked, a cheeky smile playing on his lips. The seamstresses all smiled at his compliment to them.

“Because they wanted to make sure that no oaf stepped on them,” said Kayla from behind him.

Surprised at the sound of her voice, Steve whirled around and met her eyes. He grinned before raising his arm, finger pointing at everyone in the room. “Listen, if anyone dares step on a flower as beautiful as this woman,” he said, gesturing to Kayla. “They’ll have to deal with me after.” He approached Kayla as she beamed at his words. “Gorgeous,” he told her, kissing her cheek.

From behind the seamstresses, Nick Fury, head of the sales staff, emerged. He wore a stern look as he glared at the errand boy. “Steve.”

At his voice, Steve straightened up and pulled away from his girlfriend. He looked the perfect role of a soldier as Mr. Fury approached him.

“The letters you are to deliver are waiting for you.”

Steve nodded, nervously looking down at his feet, obviously chastised. “Forgive me, Mr. Fury.” He walked away without another word.

At this, Mr. Fury directed his words at the rest of the staff. “Everyone to their posts,” he ordered. “This week is important for Marvel Galleries. We must show Hydra Stores who we are.”

The staff stood at attention at his words before nodding and dispersing to their positions, the sales staff going upstairs to get ready to tend to the clients, the seamstresses walking into the workroom.

Peggy Carter, head of the seamstresses, stepped into the room a few seconds later. A strict woman, her hair was done up in a bun and she always wore red lipstick, a white, long-sleeved shirt, and a black, pencil skirt that reached below her knees. The women were all chatting about and didn’t hear her walk in.

“Ladies!” she called out, making some of her employees jump up in shock. “I don’t hear the sewing machines nor the scissors.” She pointed at a dress that was half-made. “This dress, it must be done by this afternoon. What’s keeping you? What are you waiting for?”

And the work day began. The store coming to life.

Up at the lobby, Nick Fury led his staff through the hallway and into the vast lobby. Two turning doors were the main entrance of Marvel Galleries, opening up to a large room that had mannequins lined up, wearing the latest collection.

“Remember,” said Mr. Fury. “We don’t sell clothes here, we sell haute couture; exclusiveness, quality, class. And our clients don’t come here only for all of that. They come here for the treatment we know that they deserve and that, of course, we are going to give them.”

As he talked, the staff spread out across the room, assuming their positions. Mr. Fury faced them before looking down at his wristwatch.

“It is time,” he declared, turning around to face the front doors. “Gentlemen, open the doors.”

And thus, the day began. The richest, most elite of the country stepped inside. Everything was flawlessly prepared for them, jewelry, perfumes, shoes, and hand-made designer dresses.

Down below, Peggy Carter assessed the girls’ work. She was harsh and unforgiving as she examined a hat perched on a mannequin.

“Who sewed this hat?” she demanded to know.

Maria Hill stepped forward. “It was me, Mrs. Carter.” She smiled politely at her boss.

Mrs. Carter ignored Maria and stepped towards you, quirking a brow. “And you approved it?”

“Yes,” you replied from your work desk. “I approved it because I think it’s well done.”

Mrs. Carter scoffed. “Really? Do you think this is the way to sew a haute couture hat?” she questioned, showing you the hat as if it was the first time you were looking at it. “You are the one responsible for the model. If one of the girls does her job poorly, you know whose fault it is.”

You breathed deeply, trying not to show your disgust at her words.

She dropped the hat on your desk with force. “Start this over again.” She kept her eyes on you as you got on your feet and stepped away from her and towards the front of the room.

“With all due respect, Mrs. Carter,” you said. “I have to disagree with you.”

Everyone in the room froze at your words as Mrs. Carter’s lips set in a thin line. “Excuse me? What did you just say?”

Your back was facing her as you grabbed a roll of fabric to cut. “I’m saying that it’s well made.” You could feel her glare on your back, yet continued to defend Maria’s work. “We followed the designer’s pattern, which clearly shows how to do it. You can see for yourself.”

Mrs. Carter was seething by now and her voice was cold as she spoke. “You’re still that same conceited child that got here twenty years ago. I don’t have anything to see for myself. If I say you have to re-do it, you do it, without arguing. Understood?” By now, she had walked up to you and her eyes were piercing into yours.

You remained silent.

“Understood?” she demanded, her voice harsher this time.

“Yes, Mrs. Carter!” said everyone but you.

You looked away from her and stepped around her. “Yes, Mrs. Carter,” you said in a lower voice that only she could hear, before walking away.

“Now get to work!” she ordered. She began to stroll between the rows of sewing machines. “I want everything to work like a charm. If we can never make mistakes, tomorrow even less.”

She now stood next to you, by the cutting table as you measured out the cloth you had picked before taking the scissors in your hand. You didn’t look up as she directed her gaze to you.

“Every little mistake we make down here is multiplied by ten in the show upstairs,” she said, her eyes still focused on you, yet you continued to look down at the working table, seamlessly cutting the fabric that you wanted. “And if a mistake happened, I swear that the person responsible will be fired by the end of this week and will end up in the street.”

There was a beat of silence before Steve stepped inside. “Excuse me, Mrs. Carter, there is a telegram for you.” He approached her almost reverently and held out a piece of paper.

“Thank you, Steve,” she said politely, taking it from him. She didn’t spare him another glance and instead focused on the message written out for her. “Come on, ladies. We don’t have all day,” she said despite reading the telegram.

Her expression turned grim as she read through it. Looking up from it, she heaved a deep breath before turning around and exiting the workroom.

* * *

George Barnes pressed down on the intercom as it buzzed.

“Mr. Barnes,” said his secretary. “Mrs. Carter needs to speak with you.”

“Tell her to come later.”

“She says it’s very important.”

A beat of silence before he pressed the button again. “Very well, let her through.”

George could see Peggy Carter from the frosted-glass windows of his office door. She approached and knocked once before opening the door.

“May I?” she inquired, holding the telegram to her chest.

“Come in,” said George.

Peggy nodded her head and stepped inside, closing the door behind herself.

“Are you alright, Peggy?” he asked.

She approached him, holding out the paper. “Read it yourself.”

George took it and opened the folded paper, eyes traveling fast over the words. He inhaled before looking up at Peggy. “What does this mean?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, shaking her head. “I don’t know how they found me.”

Peggy was making to fix George’s tie when the door opened, Gloria walking through it.

“Has Bucky arrived?” she asked as a form of greeting. She smiled as her eyes fell on Peggy. “Forgive me, Peggy.”

“I was just leaving, Mrs. Barnes,” Peggy gave her a polite smile, taking the paper from George’s hand. “Don’t worry.” She spun around and brushed past Gloria and towards the door.

“Take care of everything,” George called out to her. “We’ll continue later.”

Peggy nodded at him before stepping out, leaving George and Gloria alone in the office.

Gloria began to take off her gloves. “I thought Bucky’s plane arrived an hour ago.”

“There must be a delay,” said George. “I sent a car for him.” He walked up to his wife and kissed her cheek before stepping behind his desk.

“You’re in such a hurry for him to join the company,” she said, disdain dripping from her voice.

“Gloria, I need someone to manage things, and who better for that role than my son?” George sat down and grabbed his pen. “He has studied for this, and has worked in one of the best galleries in London. That is why we have sent him away, so our business would benefit from this situation.”

“Oh,” drawled out Gloria, leaning against the desk and raising a brow at her husband. “I thought we sent him away for other reasons.”

He ignored her jab and began signing the stack of papers waiting for him. “When I am no longer here, my son will inherit the business.”

“He and your daughter,” said Gloria. “You have a daughter, too, George. Remember.”

“We’ve already talked about that.”

“No, sweetie. You have talked about it,” Gloria pointed out. “And I always feel like you don’t think enough about her.”

“Natasha is not prepared for it.”

Gloria gave a dry laugh. “Natasha has studied in the best schools and she grew up in these very galleries. She has worn all of your dresses, she knows this business perfectly.”

George shook his head. “She has not worked a day in her life.”

“That’s easily solved, though.”

“Bucky has obtained experience abroad,” said George. “And he’s a man. He’s a man with clear ideas. Natasha doesn’t even know what she wants to do.”

Gloria rested a hand on her husband’s forearm. “Have you asked her, George? Have you asked your daughter what she wants to do?”

George stopped writing, placed the top back on the pen and looking up at Gloria for a brief second. “She is too young.”

“She is the same age you were when you started your very first business, no?” Gloria said with a soft chuckle.

George gave her a sardonic smile. “That same business that ruined me?”

Gloria wanted to roll her eyes, but instead she straightened up and took a deep breath. “It’s up to you, George.” She stomped over to the chair where she had left her purse. “But let me tell you one thing. I hope you’re not wrong because if your son lets you down again, I won’t be here to console you.”

And with that said, she marched out of the room, the door slamming as she left. Turning around, Gloria stepped into the hallway and stopped at the sight of her daughter. Natasha got on her feet, easily reading her mother’s expression.

“He said no, right?” she said in a dry voice. “I told you.” Spinning around, she stomped towards the elevator, Gloria right behind her.

“You’re both equally his children,” said Gloria as the doors to the lift opened, a man stepped out and the women quickly walked into it. Both women made sure he was out of hearing range to continue the conversation.

“I won’t let him exclude you,” Gloria promised.

Natasha heaved a laugh that was anything but humorous. “Mother, we were never equal. Don’t lie to yourself. Now that Bucky is back, it will be like before.” She put on her gloves with an angry force, frustrated by her father’s decision to exclude her from the family business just because she was a woman. 

* * *

One of the sales assistants by the name of Sharon approached Nick Fury. “Mr. Fury,” she called out to him.

“Yes, Sharon?”

“Mrs. Kate has a fitting,” she informed him. “I rang the workroom but my mother…” She stopped and cleared her throat, smiling awkwardly at her slip-up. “I mean, Mrs. Carter, isn’t there.”

Nick Fury nodded his head. “I’ll see to it, don’t worry.”

Sharon nodded and they parted ways, Nick Fury heading downstairs to the workroom.

“Tesla,” he called out. “Where is Mrs. Carter?”

Tesla looked up from her workstation. “She’s just gone out,” she replied. “But if I can help you in anything, Mr. Fury, you let me know.”

“I need to seamstresses to attend a client,” he informed her.

Tesla cringed at this. “That’s a little difficult at the moment. We’re all preoccupied with the last, tiny details of the collection.” She gave a tiny laugh. “And you also know that Mrs. Carter doesn’t like us moving without her permission.”

Fury glanced about the room. “Mrs. Carter is here right now?”

Tesla wrung her hands. “No.” Helen and you shared a smile at your friend’s expense. She was known to talk too much and had done so just now.

“Then, go upstairs and attend the client.”

“Yes, Mr. Fury,” muttered Tesla.

As Nick Fury walked away, the laughter from you and Helen got a little louder and Tesla’s head snapped to glare at the two of you.

Upstairs, Sharon Carter quirked a brow and crossed her arms over her chest as she saw you and Helen emerge from the back of the store. “How long must I keep a customer waiting?” she asked in a demanding voice.

“There was a lot of work to do in the workroom,” you answered, following Sharon towards the fitting rooms.

She scoffed, shooting you a sarcastic smile. “Don’t tell me your life story, I’m not interested.”

Ignoring her, you and Helen followed her inside to the private room, where you began to fit Mrs. Kate’s dress.

“You look wonderful!” complemented Sharon.

“Thank you, dear,” smiled Mrs. Kate, giving the mirror a pleased glance. “Let’s see what my husband thinks. Frank!”

A man stood in an adjacent room, reading from the pages of a magazine. He looked up at the sound of his wife’s voice.

“Frank, come look at my dress,” she said, turning around to face him proudly. “What do you think?”

Her husband, Mr. Frank, walked up to her, eyes on her before they flitted to Helen, clearly appreciating what he saw. He smirked. And then he went back to looking at his wife.

“You look beautiful, my dear,” he told her. Yet his gaze went back to an oblivious Helen, who smiled up at Mrs. kate, happy that the client was satisfied with her dress.

Sharon spoke up. “It’s from one of the best designers of the season. And we have the exclusive use of his models in Spain.” Mrs. Kate looked impressed at this as you continued to fit the dress to her form and telling Helen to mark down the measurements. “Look at the show tonight,” continued Sharon. “A few seem designed just for you.”

Mrs. Kate smiled. “I will do that!”

“So will I,” spoke Mr. Frank, leaning on the threshold before straightening up and patting his chest. “And also my checkbook.”

Sharon and Mrs. Kate shared a laugh at his joke as he chuckled. Right before leaving, Mr. Frank shot another appreciative glance at Helen, who was still focusing on writing the numbers you were giving her.

“I also hear that there will be a surprise at the show,” commented Mrs. Kate. “Mr. Barnes’ son, Bucky!” At the sound of his name, you stopped your work and looked up in surprise. “Isn’t he coming back for the show?”

Helen met your eyes, but before you could say anything else, Mrs. Kate yelped out in pain. You had pricked her with one of the needles.

“Sorry, Mrs. Kate,” you said, rubbing at the spot at her waist.

“Don’t worry, dear,” she assured you.

“Yes!” said Sharon, obviously excited that there was now a new subject to talk about with the client. “I believed he arrived this morning.”

“Bucky is a wonderful boy,” said Mrs. Kate.

You pulled your hands away from where you had been fitting the dress and looked down at your feet, not having expected to hear from the one person you hadn’t been expecting. Helen noticed your obvious sadness and finished fitting everything as you took a step back.

* * *

Nick Fury smiled at the client who was waiting for her purchase. He handed it to her and thanked her before she walked away. His head turned and he spotted you, standing behind a column.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded. “You shouldn’t be up here.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me he was coming today, uncle?”

He raised a brow. “I didn’t know that I had to keep you up to date with the decisions that the Barnes family has made.” You scowled at him as he stepped up to stand closer to you. “But yes, he’s coming back today. Unfortunately. Because the farther away he is, the better for everyone.” He scrutinized you. “Do you care?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Then, there is no problem.” He began to pull away.

“When is he due to arrive?”

“I don’t know,” he said, voice rising. “And if you don’t care, you shouldn’t be asking!”

You made to say something, but your uncle glared at you.

“Go back to the workroom,” he ordered. “And stay there. Do as I say.”

His voice booked no argument and you took a deep breath, turning around and heading back downstairs to the seamstresses’ workroom.

* * *

Bucky stepped out of the back of a luxurious red and white car, smiling back at the driver as he made his way into the store for the first time in years with a spring in his step. He felt warm and light, elated to be back in a place he considered to home. He pulled off the sunglasses shielding his eyes from the bright sun burning outside as he stepped through the revolving doors before walking up to your uncle.

“Nick,” Bucky greeted him with a firm handshake. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, thank you. How are you?” Nick answered.

“I’m happy to be back,” Bucky replied, scanning the store with a fond expression on his face. “How are things?”

“There’s strong competition with the Hydra Stores,” Nick chuckled with a shake of his head, “but we’ll hold out.”

“And my father?” Bucky asked, his smile faltering at the news of the rival store doing so well.

“In his office. Shall I call?”

The conversation carried on as you peeked from the second floor balcony to catch a glimpse at Bucky. You felt your breath catch in the back of your throat as you took in his appearance. He’d grown into such a handsome man. He didn’t look much different, but he certainly wasn’t the teenage boy that’d left all those years ago.

“No, no. I know the way.” Bucky politely declined, wanting to surprise his father.

Looking up, he’d caught just a slight glimpse of you. The split seconds of eye contact was just enough for your heart to pound furiously at your ribcage as you moved around a pillar and out of sight. Though you were gone, Bucky knew what he saw and couldn’t force himself to tear his eyes away from the spot that you had once stood. Bucky’s distracted gaze forced Nick to follow his line of sight, finding nothing noticeable outside of the same building he looked at day in and day out.

“Nothing has changed here,” Bucky mumbled, a disappointment lining his tone as he covered for you.

“Well, you know what they say; things don’t change, we change.”

“Delighted to see you.” Bucky nodded at Nick, ending the conversation before heading for the elevators.

Bucky managed to squeeze through the doors of the lift just before they closed, leaving him riding with a group of well-dressed women. He maneuvered his way to the back, catching a few of the suggestive glances that were sent his way. Each one of the women seemed to be in a trance until he cleared his throat and greeted them.

“Good afternoon.” He nodded, acknowledging them.

“Good afternoon,” they all answered in unison, returning their attentions to the front of the elevator.

* * *

“If you want control of Marvel Galleries, it’ll be over my dead body.” George paced, drink in hand as he spoke at the back of an impeccably dressed woman that carried herself with an air of elegant grace.

“To be so stubborn, you have to be able to keep your promises.” She answered, her body not moving a muscle as George sipped the amber liquid in his glass. She started to turn as she continued, a sense of victory in her tone, “and from what I know-”

“You know absolutely nothing!” George snapped, cutting her off.

The woman smiled at the rise she was getting out of George, knowing that she’d managed to get under his skin. She made to sit behind the table housed in his office while she laid everything out on the table for him to see clear as day.

“I know the Hydra Stores have increased their sales in the past three years,” she retorted, folding her hands together on the smooth wooden slab, feeling as though she had the upperhand. “Whose customers have we taken?”

“Get out!” George shouted, unwilling to listen to another word that would leave her lips. “Right now.” He warned before storming to the other end of the large office, sitting behind his desk and ignoring the smile on her face.

“Don’t talk like that, George.” Her smile fading to a faux pout. “Imagine if people know how rude you were to your sister.” She carried on with a raised voice, almost as if she were offended by his reaction to her toying with him. “I offered my help and you may not want it, but you decide; sell your store, or disappear.”

“You know,” George started, his voice calm and leveled. “I wouldn’t be able to spend my life profiting from others’ misfortunes.”

“You have something that makes us different,” she exclaimed with a laugh, grabbing her purse from the chair that sat across from George. “It’s called Christian morality.”

* * *

The ding of the elevator rang through the top floor just before the doors slid open to reveal Bucky standing alone. Checking his watch as he stepped off, he was surprised to see his aunt walking toward him when he looked up.

“Bucky!” She smiled brightly, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“How are you?” he asked as he continued taking steps toward his father’s office.

“Very good!” she answered, stopping turning around to catch his attention. “So, it’s true, you’re here to help your father.”

Her words made Bucky spin on his heels, hands pushed into his pockets as curiosity took over. “How is he?”

“Fine,” she sighed. “When will you pay us a visit at Hydra?”

“Do you want me to get disinherited?” Bucky joked, a charming smile taking over his features as he bid his aunt farewell. George’s secretary pushed a button on the intercom to let him know that Bucky was there, but stopped mid-sentence when Bucky pressed his index finger to his mouth.

“Now what is it?” George’s voice rang through the small speaker on her desk in the same moment that Bucky pushed the door open.

“That’s a great welcome,” Bucky teased, poking his head into the massive space.

“Bucky, son!” George jumped from his seat and made his way around the desk.

“How are you, dad?” Bucky smiled, half expecting a hug after not having seen George in some time. However, his father stopped a few feet in front of him, looking him from head to toe.

“You came into Marvel Galleries like that?”

“It’s the London fashion,” Bucky mumbled, looking down at his outfit. “You don’t like it? You sent me there, and-”

“I should’ve picked Paris,” George answered, cutting Bucky off with a faint smirk playing at his lips.

“You haven’t changed.” Bucky shook his head, coaxing a chuckle to rumble through his father.

“Fortunately, I had a suit made for you for tomorrow.”

“How are the preparations for the show?” Bucky could barely contain his excitement as he thought back to the last time he’d attended one of Marvel Galleries’ extravagant events. George nodded, taking a step closer to Bucky and let him know that things were going well. “And the models?”

“Do you want to see them?” George asked, his smile spreading along with Bucky’s at the elated tone of his voice.

“Of course!” The two shared a laugh, George patting his son on the shoulder before leading him out of the office to the elevator.

Helen and Tesla rolled their mannequins to the middle of the salon, following two other seamstresses that had just showed the Barnes men their work. Both George and Bucky looked on without changing their expressions as Peggy spoke.

“This is the last one,” she gestured at the garments expertly put together on the mannequins. “Modelled on Pertegaz’s pattern, it goes with a fur stole and gloves.”

“Thank you, Peggy.” He spoke without bothering to look behind the couch he sat on with Bucky. “Can we have some privacy?” Without another word, Peggy, Tesla, and Helen all filed out of the room. Leaving George the opportunity to ask for his son’s honest opinion, he was confused as to why Bucky had been so stoic after having been so excited to see the collection just minutes before.

Bucky let out a huff of air, rubbing his hands together nervously. He knew what he thought, and he knew his father wouldn’t like it.

“It’s true to Marvel Galleries’ signature style.” Bucky went against his better judgement and told his father what he knew he wanted to hear, knowing that George would see right through the bluff.

“Very diplomatic,” George answered with a roll of his eyes. “But sales depend on its success and profit depends on sales. Competition is very tough this season.”

“I know that and that’s why I think we should do something different, something new.” Bucky stood from his seat, ambition glowing within his blue eyes as he paced the room, peeking into the workroom.

“Go on, tell me,” George waved his hands in front of his chest, his tone lined with sarcastic enthusiasm, “What’s your idea?”

“Pierre Cardin.”

“The bubble dress?” George scoffed, his brows reaching for his hairline.

“That man has changed fashion forever,” Bucky reasoned, coming to a stop in front of his father.

“He doesn’t design for our customer base.” George began hesitantly.

“They said that about Dior and his New Look,” Bucky quickly cut off George’s train of thought. “If we want our business to grow, then we have to grow, too. We have to take risks, I’d do that with Pierre Cardin.”

“Our offer isn’t novelty, Bucky.” George stood from his seat, shutting down Bucky’s wild imagination. “It’s exclusiveness, haute couture.”

“He is haute couture!” Bucky felt anger and irritation starting to bubble in his chest as his eyes met the matching ones of his father. “Why did you call me here? Didn’t you say you trusted my vision?”

“I thought it would be closer to the spirit of our business.” George huffed. “Bucky, I trust in you, really. Very much. I know you’ll make us successful again. Just find a way to do it with what you have.”

Just as George put his arm around Bucky’s shoulder and began pulling him out of the salon, Bucky happened to look into the workroom. You looked up at the perfect moment to lock eyes with him for a few seconds, a sweet smile breaking his expression briefly before he was gone. Unable to control the smile that was starting to pull at your lips, you put down the rolls of fabric that you were holding and returned to your work station with a flustered expression. Tesla and Helen eyed you before sending knowing glances at one another as you got back to work.

“Are you alright?” Tesla called from behind you, leaving her work to gossip with you.

“He smiled at me,” you admitted, pulling an excited ‘eep’ out of Tesla who was now at your side.

“You were right,” Helen chimed in. “He’s not like his father.”

“Hey!” Tesla chastised Helen, slapping her shoulder lightly. “You’re married!”

“Yes, but he’s not here and she talked so much about Bucky.”

“I don’t care anymore,” you spoke nonchalantly, with your nose in your work, pretending to be busy.

One of you coworkers called out to Helen to let her know that she had a phone call. On her way out, Helen looked between you and Tesla before warning you not to continue the conversation without her. As much as she complained about you going on and on about Bucky, Helen secretly wanted to know every detail and with Bucky’s return, the thirst for information only grew stronger.

“Are you sure that you don’t care?” Tesla looked at you with concern on her face, feeling as though you  were using your smile to cover up some deeper feelings.

“I’m sure.” You answered, giving her a tight smile and a pat to her arm to reassure her, and give her enough motivation to return to her work whether she believed you or not.

* * *

“He had his check-up,” Helen laid on Helen’s bed with tears rolling down her reddened cheeks.“The doctor says he’s worse.”

You moved with Tesla from your spots at the foot of the bed to sit on either side of her. Allowing the two of you to comfort her, Helen rested her head on Tesla’s shoulder while your fingers ran through her hair.

“Things will get better,” Tesla whispered softly.

“What will I do without him?” Helen’s shaky voice racked through her body as she struggled to keep her composure.

“Don’t say that,” you shook your head, rubbing her arm to soothe her. “He’s not going anywhere.”

“Two years ago, I was happy, thinking we’d have children and now look at me.” Helen struggled out.

“Life can improve!” Tesla exclaimed, trying to keep the fleeting positivity in the room, but darkness was an overcast over Helen’s head.

“I can’t even be with him!”

“Because you’re working,” you reminded her as you wiped away the tears that were marking a trail down her face. Having a job was an accomplishment these days and you wanted her to know that even if things were hard, she would be okay because she still had good things in life.

“I’m working to pay for the doctors,” Helen admitted. “But I can’t pay for the treatment he needs. Not even if I went begging in the streets.”

* * *

Bucky stepped off the elevator with George, the two stepping in sync as they made their way through the store. They both slowed their speed as Gloria and Natasha came into view.

“Hello, Bucky.” Gloria greeted her stepson with a pearly white smile.

“Hello, Gloria.” Bucky nodded, returning the sentiment. “How are you?”

“I’m good,” she shrugged happily. “Your sister and I didn’t want to wait until dinner to see you, did we?” She continued, looking Bucky up and down with a hint of disgust souring her features slightly. “Well, you’re..”

“Badly dressed?” Bucky jumped in before she had the chance to insult him. “My father already told me, don’t worry.” He directed his attention to Natasha as he spoke. “I hope they don’t check your wardrobe every day.”

“It isn’t necessary,” Natasha snapped back with a devilish smirk that pulled an angry chuckle from deep within Bucky.

Before he said something he’d regret, Bucky said goodbye to his family and started for the door. Gloria’s voice stopping him momentarily. She asked where he was going only to find that he was itching to spend time with his friends.

“Bucky!” George called to his son, freezing him where he stood. Bucky pivoted to face his father. “Call Wanda, Erik Maximoff’s daughter. She was asking about you and I told her you’d call.”

“I will, there’s plenty of time,” Bucky grumbled, a hint of an attitude caught in his throat as he walked away.

The sun greeted Bucky as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was almost jarring that he was more happy leaving than he had been going in. He started the day on cloud nine and now wanted nothing more than to put some space between himself and Marvel Galleries. He needed to blow off some steam, so when his driver opened the door for him, he simply pushed on his sunglasses and walked away with purpose.

* * *

You sat at the foot of Helen’s bed, a warm mug of tea clutched in your hand as you stared off into space. Helen cried for what felt like hours and once she’d calmed down, all red-eyed and rosy-cheeked, you and Tesla didn’t want to leave her to suffer alone. Tesla had found herself laid across the spare bed in the room, looking as if she were about to fall asleep while Helen sat in the same spot you’d left her.

“Aren’t you going out?” Helen asked, confused as to why you were sitting around.

Tesla rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows with her feet in the air, ankles crossed. She looked at Helen like she’d been waiting to hear those very words all day.

“Don’t stay in for me,” Helen shrugged. “Go and have a drink. I’m going to call home.”

Tesla’s head snapped at you as she waited for you to say the word so that she could jump up and get ready for a fun night out. She was bored and most of her days were spent daydreaming about going out and painting the town a perfect shade of red.

“We’ll wait for you.” You made a polite offer, not caring either way about whether you went out or not. There was nothing for you at the bars, and Helen knew that but still, she insisted that you went out and had a good time without her. You promised her you’d be back at ten-thirty, right before curfew, before grabbing your white coat and following Tesla back to your own room.

With Tesla’s arm hooked in yours, you walked out the staff entrance door. A few of the other’s leaving for a night out on the town of their own. You spotted Bucky leaning up against a car that was parked right at the end of the alleyway.

“I thought you weren’t coming out,” he called to you with a bright smile on his face.

“Why are you here, Bucky?” you asked nonchalantly as if he was someone that you’d seen every day in passing, not wanting to show the excitement you felt swirling around inside your belly.

“Waiting for you,” he answered before taking a few steps in your direction, pausing to say hello to Tesla. His focus returned back to you almost instantly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“No,” you tilted your head toward Tesla. “I’m with my friend.”

“But it’s been so long.” Bucky pushed, feeling a bit of disappointment at your rejection. He’d spent so much time waiting to finally get a chance to talk to you again and it felt like you wanted nothing to do with him.

“I’ve always been here,” you retorted with a slight air of irritation in your voice, but Bucky simply gave you a sly smirk.

“Waiting for me?”

“Don’t you wish,” you shook your head, pulling a giggling Tesla along.

“Really, Y/N, I don’t mind.” Tesla tugged against your arm, stopping you just a few feet from where Bucky stood. You could hear in her voice that she was trying to convince you to go with him. She was your greatest friend and knew almost everything about you, your young love with Bucky included. “I’ll go to the bar on my own. You’ll have lots to talk about.”

A suggestive smile broke across her face that made you scoff. Getting a solid grip on her arm, you pulled Tesla away as she waved goodbye to Bucky. The two of you quickly walked into the night, disappearing down the sidewalk.

“The queens of the party!” Tesla proclaimed while the two of you danced together just before being interrupted by a waiter carrying a tray with two martini glasses on it.

“We didn’t order anything,” you stated, trying to send him away, but he remained.

“From that gentleman,” he replied pointing across the bar at Bucky, who you hadn’t earlier noticed was standing by the door.

“Tell him,” you paused as Tesla gulped down half of one of the drinks. “Tesla!”

“It’s a San Francisco, I love them,” she reasoned with you as the waiter walked away while she lifted the glass in Bucky’s direction.

He chuckled, watching Tesla start to dance again and made his way over to where you stood. “Can we talk for a minute?”

“No, and buying us a drink doesn’t mean you can drink with us,” your voice was resolute, leaving no room for arguments. Walking away with Tesla on your heels, you moved to sit at the bar on the other side of the room.

You actively ignored his presence from that moment forward and he knew he had to make a grand gesture to get you to speak to him. Pulling one of the waiters to the side, Bucky whispered something in his ear and stood back while he asked everyone in the bar to leave immediately. Disappointment shrouded Tesla’s face as she placed her empty glass on the counter and went to pick up her purse.

“Not you ladies,” the waiter spoke in a hushed voice and it all became clear to you what was going on.

“Come on, Bucky did it,” you grumbled, gathering your belongings. “Let’s go.”

Just as you went to walk by him, Bucky stepped in your way. “I’ll ask you every day until you have a drink with me, it’s up to you.”

“No,” you answered, looking dead in his eyes with a fierce glare that normally would put the fear of God into any other man, but not Bucky.

“You want me to close every bar in New York?” Bucky persisted, knowing that you weren’t going to give up easy and showing that he was just as stubborn.

“No,” you shrugged. “Leave me alone.”

An unfamiliar man stepped into the space between you and Bucky. “You’re right, drop this loser and come with me.”

“You’re annoying the young lady,” Bucky answered for you, trying to push the man away, but he seemed to be just as stubborn as the both of you.

“She has to tell me that.” The man gestured at you, looking at Bucky.

Though you weren’t interested in the stranger, you were getting a kick out of watching him drown. A smirk tugged at your lips as you watch the two go back and forth. You didn’t dare lift a finger to help Bucky get rid of your new pursuer.

“You should learn some manners,” Bucky spoke harshly to the man but kept his eyes locked on yours, knowing that you were testing his patience.

“You’re telling me about manners?”

“Is it yes or no?” Bucky ignored the man, pushing his anger down to focus on the one thing in the room that mattered to him.

You opened your mouth to answer him but the stranger slapped Bucky’s chest, egging him on. Something in Bucky snapped, in an instance he went from playful and flirty to downright pissed. He pulled back and landed a hard punch to the man’s jaw. The two exchanged punches while you and Tesla stood back, helplessly until it was over.

* * *

It was after curfew, and you weren’t allowed to be out of your room, but with a quick survey of the halls, you scurried through with a first-aid kit clutched in your hands. You ran over to where Bucky sat and pulled the alcohol and a piece of gauze from the kit. You dabbed the soaked piece of cloth against the large cut just by his eyebrow as he sat, looking proud of himself.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, cleaning his wound and wanting nothing more than to wipe that stupidly smug grin off his face. When he said no, you couldn’t stop yourself from applying more pressure until he winced in pain.

“Okay, it hurts a bit,” he smiled fondly at you, trusting you to know that he’d learned his lesson. “I got you to talk to me.” You ignored his words and put the alcohol away, prompting him to continue. “I didn’t imagine you to still be here. I imagined you in Paris, working for that designer you like.”

A sour smile came across your face, a shrug pulling your shoulders up to your ears. “Of course, but I can only see the collections in the magazines.” You moved from where you stood, going to walk away as you carried on. “Maybe one day Mrs. Carter will retire and I’ll got to Paris with your father to choose models. Welcome to the real world.”

Something in you broke and you were back in the room just as fast as you left. “What did you expect? A big smile?” You shouted at him, suddenly feeling all the anger you’d been bottling inside starting to break free from your heart and climb up your chest.

“That you’d be happy to see me,” Bucky answered, not understand where this frustration was coming from.

“Seven years waiting for you, for a letter,” you shook your head out of aggravation. “For anything.”

“I wrote a letter every month for a year,” Bucky explained, but his words went in one ear and out the other.

You couldn’t believe him if you wanted to, as you spent every day waiting for a word from him and got nothing. He was your every hope and dream, and when he left, he took your spirit with him. You turned around and went to stomp out of the room, Bucky’s fingers wrapping around your elbow stopped you though.

“Y/N, wait,” he turned you around, his eyes capturing yours. “Every month, I swear. Maybe my father or your uncle kept them, but I swear I wrote.” Bucky pleaded, blocking your path as you turn side to side looking for an escape from the conversation you never wanted to have.

“They sent me to London to forget you, but I never did.” He paused, watching your expressions soften slightly as you thought back. “And you? Did you forget me?”

“Isn’t it a bit late to be here?” Your uncle’s voice bellowed from behind you, making you spin around quickly. The same wave of dread you felt the last time you were caught alone with Bucky washed over you, stealing your voice and clouding your mind.

Thinking quick on his toes, Bucky covered for you. “I’m sorry. It’s my fault, I had an accident.”

“I see.” Nick nodded, stepping to the side to signal that it was time for Bucky to leave. Only when he was out of sight did your uncle turn back to you. “What will I do with you?”

There it was. That heart shattering disappointment that you hated seeing on your uncle’s face. It wrapped around your mind as the struggle between brain and heart raged within you. Watching your uncle walk away, you swallowed down the lump that was beginning to form in your throat. You’d done nothing wrong but somehow managed to feel like the villain.

Your heart won the fight, your legs carrying you to follow behind your uncle without permission. “He wrote to me?”

“Who?”

“Bucky.”

“Not once,” Nick answered without looking back at you, making a bee-line for his room.

“Then why would he say that he did?” you challenged, forcing Nick to turn and walk back toward you.

“Why do you think?” he asked the rhetorical question, clearly annoyed with your wandering heart. “Look, he’s the young master. The owner, and you’re his employee. He’s travelled, he’s studied, he’s met quite a few young women and I bet he left them all looking like you’re looking right now. I told you to stay away from him.”

“He came looking for me,” you explained. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“I’m the one who heard you crying at night all these years. You want to feel like that again?” Nick continued as you shook your head, your eyes finding the floor. “‘It’s up to you. Before you were my responsibility, but now if you make a mistake, it’s your problem. George Barnes can forgive once, but not twice.” Nick took to the few steps leading back to his room before stopping to add on an important piece of information. “And neither can I.”

* * *

Bucky’s maid greeted him at the door with a curtsy, he nodded at her and continued through the massive foyer. Upon arriving to the den, Bucky wasn’t surprised to see the members of his family all sat around. However, they had a guest.

“Good evening.” Bucky called out to the group. Wanda turned to look over her shoulder, knowing Bucky’s voice anywhere. Her face lit up with a bright smile and Bucky could see the elation in her eyes.

“So you decided to turn up.” George spoke, sounding fed up with Bucky but keeping his voice at a normal volume.

“I didn’t know we had visitors.” Bucky quirked a brow at his father. With a roll of his eyes, he returned Wanda’s smile, politely. “What a surprise, Wanda.”

“You were to tell me when you returned to New York!” Bucky’s parents shared a hopeful glance as Wanda hopped from her seat and pulled Bucky into a hug. Her hand cupped his cheek as she kissed the other gently. “I had to hear it from your father.”

“I just got back this afternoon.”

“I know.” Wanda quipped, folding her arms across her chest. “I was in Marvel Galleries to pick up a dress for tomorrow, and your father insisted I came to say hello.”

Bucky was seething inside. After the day he had, he just wanted to go to bed and hit the reset button. His family was full of tension; nothing he did was enough and his visions were too outlandish for his father’s company. His stepmother and sister treated him like he was some common trash, forcing him to feel like the black sheep of the family. The woman he loved wouldn’t have him and he had no idea what he’d done wrong. He’d been in a fight and now his parents were trying to force Wanda Maximoff into his arms. Bucky was done, but he couldn’t let it show. The last time he revealed his heart, he was sent away to London.

Gloria asked Wanda to stay for dinner, adding insult to injury. Bucky felt his breath catch in the back of his throat, his eyes trained on Gloria. He knew that Wanda had a thing for him, everyone did, and the fact that these feelings were unrequited made him uncomfortable around her. Luckily, Wanda politely declined the offer, feeling as though the Barnes’ family should spend such an important day together without any guests. George instructed Bucky to walk Wanda out, smiling with his wife as the pair walked to the front door.

“Studying abroad agreed with you.” Wanda complimented Bucky, her eyes  tied to his with an unbreakable longing.

“Being in New York agreed with you.” Bucky returned the sentiment, trying to keep the sincerity in his voice as he folded his arms over his chest.

“You’re in luck, I have time this week for dinner,” Wanda paused, her fingers gently resting on Bucky’s arm. “And after, I might even let you take me out for a drink.”

Bucky said nothing, letting a chuckle take the place of his words. Wanda gave his cheek a peck as she bid him a goodnight, her eyes burning into her soul, speaking all the words that her lips wouldn’t dare. She walked off with an extra sway in her hips, missed by Bucky who was already half way through the front door.

* * *

“Helen?” you called to your friend as you stepped into her dark room. Her back was to you and you could see her hunched over something. “Have you seen Tes?” You flipped on the lights, placing a hand on your hip when a red fabric come into sight beside Helen. She was hand sewing the hemline, piquing your interest. “What is this?”

“There’s no other way to get the money,” she shrugged. “You do it too.”

“And the material?” You knew you weren’t prepared for her answer but you couldn’t help but to ask anyway. Humans do crazy things when they’re desperate and the last thing you wanted was to see your friend end up in the worst kind of trouble.

“It’s from the workroom.”

“Are you _crazy_?” you asked, feeling like a mother chastising her unruly child, “I do alterations. I don’t take patterns or material. Mrs. Carter checks everything!” You were running out of breath from the panicked rambling.

“They’re from last season!” Helen dropped her work on the bed, moving to stand in front of you. “She’ll never find out.”

A sharp knock on the door, made both of you whip your heads around. Peggy called Helen’s name through the door and your heart started to pound furiously at your ribcage. Thinking quickly, you bundled the materials up in your arms and shoved them into Helen’s closet before the two of you went to the door.

“This is no time to be in a colleague’s room.” Peggy warned, her eyes frozen on your frame as she spoke. “Come along.” You went to step out of the room, but Peggy blocked your way. “Where’s Tesla?”

“She’s in the bathroom, Mrs. Carter.” You lied through your teeth. You had no idea where Tesla was and you hoped to find her before Peggy did, or else it would be both of your heads.

“You think I’m a fool?” Peggy spat the words out. “Go to your room.”

* * *

“Lights out!” Peggy’s dominate voice rang through the almost empty halls.

Sharon, however, didn’t budge. She stood in the doorway of her bedroom and lit a cigarette as her mother stepped toward her with a disapproving look on her face.

“You think I didn’t notice you shortened your skirt?” Peggy accused, her hand planted firmly on her hip. “The uniform is the same for us all. That’s why it exists.”

“It must have shrunk, mother.” Sharon shrugged, trying her best to get away with showing just a little bit more skin.

“That material doesn’t shrink.” Peggy retorted, looking down at the black pencil skirt Sharon wore. “And just because Mr. Fury didn’t realize doesn’t mean you can fool me.” She spoke through the cloud of smoke that Sharon had just blown in her direction, her face remaining unchanged as she moved to sit on a crate just outside her door. “When will you understand that you can’t draw attention at work?

“When will you understand that for me, some things are more important than this?” Sharon snapped back, pulling her black pumps from her feet.

“You should be grateful for a roof over your head and a decent job. Not like them,” Peggy pointed her chin down the women’s corridor. “Waiting for a man to take them away.”

“I’m not one of them.”

“I hope not. I didn’t bring you up for that.”

“Goodnight, mother.” Sharon stood from her spot with a huff of irritation before heading for her room, stopping when she felt Peggy grab her elbow. She tugged Sharon close and kissed her cheek.

“Sleep well.” It was a soft whisper from mother to daughter rather than an order from boss to employee.

* * *

There were still no signs of Tesla and you were forced to turn off the lights in your room and get into bed. Just as you were closing your eyes, there was a furious knock to the window that led to the alleyway, adjacent to the back entrance.

You jumped at the sound, knowing that Tesla was back when she called out your name and feeling immensely relieved at the fact. Climbing out of bed, you put on your robe and snuck out of the room and towards the entrance, quickly unlocking it as quietly as you could.

“Where the hell were you?” you whispered furiously as you propped the door opened for your best friend. “Mrs. Carters knows you were out.”

Tesla was smiling from ear-to-ear as she stepped inside and leaned against the other double-door. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Midnight.” You glared at her, locking the door back up again.

“Already? One day, I’ll be so rich, I won’t have any clocks at home,” said Tesla. You smiled and she veered her head at the sound, smiling with you. “And Bucky?”

“I wish he would have never come back, Tes,” you frowned.

She wrapped a comforting arm around you shoulder as you began to walk back to your room together. “Is there any chocolate left?”

You chuckled at her question and the two of you quickly scurried down the corridor and to your shared room.

* * *

Peggy knocked on the doors of her workers. “Come on, ladies! We don’t have all day,” she bellowed. “The show is in twelve hours.”

She turned around and faced the wall where everyone punched in, quickly recognizing Tesla as she stepped towards to punch in her arrival time.

“Tesla!”

“Yes, Mrs. Carter?”

“Nice to see you,” she said, voice dry and eyebrow quirked.

Tesla gave a nervous laugh and put her paper slip back into the slot before walking up to Mrs. Carter. “When you went to  my room last night, I was in the bathroom, I promise.”

Peggy pursed her lips. “Then, why didn’t I see you when I looked there?”

Tesla gave a shrug, hoping she looked innocent enough to have Mrs. Carter believe her. “Because I was in the one upstairs. The others were closed and I was feeling sick, so—”

“Do yourself a favor and be quiet,” snapped Peggy. “I’m tired of your excuses. Make sure you start following the rules, because the next time I make the nightly rounds and you are not in your room, I will throw you out, understood?”

Tesla bit her cheek, but nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Carter.” And before Peggy could say anything else, Tesla quickly walked past her and towards the stairs that took to the lobby floor. But Peggy wasn’t done with her.

“From now on, I want you in the workroom one hour before everyone else.”

Tesla stiffened and tried to look respectful as she looked down at Mrs. Carter. “Every day?” Her boss nodded. “Until when?” asked Tesla.

“Until I say so,” answered Peggy.

Tesla took a deep breath, clearly not liking what she had heard. But she wordlessly turned around and continued her ascension to the lobby.

* * *

You were coming downstairs to the workroom when you bumped into Steve on the way down. “Y/N, I left a parcel in your room,” he informed you.

“A parcel for me?”

“Yes,” drawled out Steve as you crossed paths before separating. “But that’s all I know, because I’m just an errand boy.”

“Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Surely enough, there was a neatly-tied package waiting for you on your bed. You curiously undid the bow and opened it, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of what was inside.

That beautiful red dress you had told Bucky you liked so many years ago was there, folded inside. As you picked it up and gasped, draping it on yourself, Bucky peeked through the door quietly. He smiled at the sight of you before speaking up. “It’s the one you’ve always liked, no?”

At the sound of his voice, your smile fell and your hands fell from your body, taking the dress with them. Bucky continued smiling as he stepped inside, oblivious to your frown. You dropped the dress back into the box.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” you demanded from him, brushing past him to close the door.

“Bringing you a gift,” he said simply, as if this was the most natural thing in the world and there wasn’t a space of eleven years between you. You didn’t smile back at him and instead strode over to your bed and closed the package again.

“This dress isn’t for me. Go away before my uncle sees you.”

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Y/N, listen to me, please.”

“What do you need me to hear?” you demanded. “More lies?”

“When did I ever lie to you?” scoffed Bucky. “What lies?”

“I don’t know. You tell me!”

“I have never lied to you! Ever.”

“Why are you here, Bucky? You think coming here with a dress, the world will change and I will believe you?” By now, your voice had risen.

“I would have gone away with you! Don’t you remember?” He spoke above your voice and slammed the door closed when you made to exit the room.

You glared at him, but Bucky’s glower met yours firmly.

“Have you looked for the letters?” he asked.

“What letters? There are no letters,” you replied, making to open the door.

Bucky slammed it closed again. “Talk to the postman, please, Y/N.”

“There’s a new postman now, the old one left,” you replied, your voice a whisper now.

“I wrote you a month ago to tell you I was coming,” Bucky said, his voice rising once again when you tried to twist the doorknob. “I don’t understand! Why do you think I’m lying?”

“Because you never showed otherwise!” you yelled back.

At your words, all the fight seemed to drain out of Bucky and he backed away from the door to let you out. You kept your eyes on him, frowning, but didn’t step out of the room. Bucky gave you a sad-eyed glance before biting his lip and heeding your silent demand, brushing past you and exiting your room. You slammed the door as soon as he stepped out, slumping down on the nearest chair.

But Bucky turned around and spoke through the door. “I signed the letters with the name Jimmy Winter,” he told you. And that definitely caught your attention. “I brought the dress to you because I want you to come to the show. And because I don’t care what other people think!”

There was silence from you and Bucky heaved a deep sigh, slumping down on a few boxes outside of your room.

“If you come to the show, wearing the dress, we’ll start over again,” he said. “If not, I’ll never bother you again. But please, look for the letters.” For a few seconds, he waited for a response and upon receiving none, Bucky got on his feet and left.

* * *

At the workroom, the models had begun to arrive and were down to their underwear, waiting to be dressed by the seamstresses.

“Ladies,” called out Peggy. “Don’t stop dressing the models. We don’t want them to catch a cold. Remember, walk slowly, look straight forward and show your numbers clearly so the clients can leave their order!”

As everyone bustled about and put the last touches on the dress, Tesla stood next to Peggy, handing the models their numbers as they walked by.

Upstairs, in the lobby, Nick Fury yelled out orders to everyone. “Hurry up! Steve, the carpet needs to be in the center of the room! Chairs on both sides. Four inches apart, not a fraction more or less.” A pair of workmen were moving a heavy, potted plant and Nick pointed at them. “Careful! Be careful!”

* * *

A few hours later and the evening had begun. The show was about to start, but George and Bucky Barnes took the elevator to the seventh floor to talk in private.

George Barnes stepped into the office, clearly angry about being taken away from the show when it was just about to start. “Is this conversation so important that we can’t wait until tomorrow?”

“It can’t wait,” assured Bucky, closing the door.

George walked into the conference room that connected to the office and spun on his heel to look at his son. “Very well, son. Go ahead.” He nodded.

Bucky wrung his hands as he faced George. “I’m sorry, father, but I’m not presenting the show.”

George felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dropped on his head. “Why?”

“I’m not going to take over the company,” replied Bucky.

George sighed, walking away from Bucky towards his liquor cabinet. “Bucky, son, you’ve finished your studies and now is the time to work with the fam—”

“And to get married,” interrupted Bucky, scratching his temple in frustration as George poured himself a glass. “You forgot that.”

“When I was your age, I had a five year old son,” said George simply, offering Bucky a glass.

But he was ignored as Bucky’s voice rose. “This is not your life, father. This is my life.”

“Son, I have never made you do anything,” appeased George, trying to remain calm.

Bucky spoke over him. “Then, accept that I won’t take over the company! Things won’t change, father. We have very different perspectives on life, and on the company.”

George scoffed, stepping away from Bucky to put some space between them. “And how do you see it?”

“Life or the company?”

Not answering, George raised his glass before taking a sip. Bucky looked away with a dry smile, hands in his pockets. “I think the company should extend its sale spectrum,” he spoke, honesty in his words. “And we need to attract young people. Tonight’s show won’t do that.”

“The young people don’t buy haute couture.”

“Because they don’t like your clothes.”

“You don’t like them.”

“I don’t like them, and neither does anyone who lives in today’s world.”

George nodded his head and set the glass down on the table. “Very well. If you’re so sure about that, take your money and invest it.” Bucky wanted to roll his eyes at his father’s words, looking away from him in frustration. George continued. “Risk losing it all. That’s how you run a company.”

Bucky didn’t respond.

“I’m tired, Bucky. I’m tired of reminding you that we live off these clients. Especially with this new collection.”

“New?” scoffed Bucky. “It’s been the same for ten years, father.”

“Our clients—”

“My clients!” yelled George. “They are my clients!”

“Your clients are dying!” Bucky matched his father’s loud volume.

“I have spent thirty years, have done sixty seasons of haute couture,” roared George. “And you’re gonna come in here and tell me what my clients like?”

Bucky’s eyes teared up, his voice now low. “Father, you don’t want me to be part of this company.” George looked at his son with sadness. “And I don’t want to stay here. I didn’t study for ten years to take orders. I can’t do this,” he shook his head, turning towards the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Where?”

Bucky turned to face his father. “Anywhere I can decide how to live my own life.”

It was clear that these words hurt George and he responded in the only way he knew how. “Your mother was right about you.”

Bucky shook his head. “She’s not my mother.”

George closed his eyes and took deep breaths as Bucky exited the room, the argument affecting him more than he could have anticipated.

* * *

Down at the workroom, you and Tesla stepped into the workroom together, your arm looped through hers. A party had already been started, Kayla pouring out the champagne to the rest of the workers.

“Oh, my God,” exclaimed Tesla. “And what about Mrs. Carter? She’s going to sack all of us. I can already see it!”

Kayla laughed and offered her sister a drink. “She has no reason to find out. I won’t tell her.”

“Neither will I,” said Helen.

“Nor I,” piped up Tesla, obvious that she didn’t want to be left out. But she still scowled. “Idiots. Where did you even get the champagne?” Kayla and Helen laughed.

“Where do you think?” Kayla said in a raised voice. “Upstairs, they have hundreds of bottles for the party. I don’t think they’ll miss a few.” She clinked glasses with Tesla.

“It’s true,” spoke up Sharon, stepping inside the room. “They won’t miss them, but I’m telling Mrs. Carter.”

Kayla gave her a sarcastic smile. “We are just celebrating that we finished everything on time.”

Sharon gave everyone a fake grin. “Go ahead, while you can. I’ll miss you all when you get fired tomorrow.”

Kayla sighed, stepping forward. “Sharon, don’t tell Mrs. Carter.”

Clearly not expecting this response from Kayla, Sharon pulled back with a stiff neck. “Why not?”

Innocently, Kayla shrugged before she tipped over her champagne glass on Sharon’s skirt, gasping in faux surprise. “Oh, well! Tell her. Surely, she will think that you didn’t attend the party and that the champagne just happened to fall on your uniform.”

Sharon took in the laughter of everyone in the room, clearly hurt by this, but quickly reined in her expression and glared at Kayla. “You evil bitch, I will destroy you,” she swore.

Kayla nodded. “Try it.” Sharon stomped off and Kayla laughed, raising her glass. “To you, girls!” she said loudly, congratulating the seamstresses.

Just then, Steve rounded the corner. “Oh, the champagne’s been opened and no one thinks to tell me?” He demanded with a smile. “What is this?” He began to unbutton his suit jacket as he walked up to Kayla. “How about a few drinks and a bit of dancing?” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Faking like she really didn’t want to, Kayla let him guide her towards one of the corners. Steve wrapped his arms around her waist and they walked together.

Tesla averted her gaze from them, her lips pursed in a thin line.

Kayla made an insinuation that she wanted Steve to take her to a fancier place that wasn’t their regular spot, but Steve smiled. “I would if I could, dear,” he assured, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “But we have to save for our future. For our kids, and if we stay here, we’ll see your sister dance.”

Having heard them, Tesla scoffed. “I only dance with a good looking man,” she retorted.

Kayla shrugged at Steve. “She wants what she wants.”

“Come on,” said Steve. “Let’s go to Luigi’s.”

Kayla sighed. “Let’s go to Luigi’s, then.”

Tesla leaned against the worktable, drink in her hand, looking at the lovebirds with a glare.

Kayla winked at you as she walked past, but you grabbed Steve’s arm before he could go anywhere. “Steve, did I get a letter this month?”

“What?” he absently asked, distracted by Kayla’s swaying hips. But he looked towards you and asked you to repeat yourself.

“Did I get a letter this month?” you asked him.

“There were loads of letters,” he told you, gentle hand on your arm before he made to move away.

You scrambled to grab him before he escaped. “I-It was from Jimmy Winter, a London fashion magazine,” you lied.

“Jimmy… Yeah, we got that letter. I gave it to your uncle. Didn’t he give it to you?”

“No.”

Steve shrugged and you let him leave with Kayla, who was waiting for him by the threshold.

Excusing yourself from the party, you quickly ran over to your uncle’s room, hoping he wasn’t around. Sure enough, he was surely upstairs, helping Mr. Barnes with the show, and you quickly scurried inside, looking everywhere for any signs of the letters Bucky had sent you through the years. They were hiding beneath the cushion of your uncle’s lounging chair and you gasped at the sheer amount of them. All of them had been signed with the name of Jimmy Winter and you sat on the floor as you began to read through some of them.

_I’ve just arrived to London, and all I can think is that I miss you,_ he wrote.

_Three months and no letter from you. Tell me you haven’t forgotten me._

_Everything here is grey… I keep thinking about you._

_No matter how much they separate us…_

_Please write to me, I need to know that you’re well._

_I’m coming back to New York, I wanted you to be the first to know._

And the letters continued, each of them showing Bucky’s dedication to you. He hadn’t forgotten you like you thought he had.

And you knew what you had to do, running back to your room.

Just like that, it was as if no time has passed and you were together again with Bucky.

You went up to the rooftop together, Bucky lifting you to sit on the ledge, his body close to yours. You pulled your head back and closed your eyes, smiling as his lips kissed your cheek, your jaw, down your neck. You pressed your mouth to his and Bucky grinned against the kiss.

“I thought you didn’t miss Marvel,” you said, rubbing your hands up and down his arms.

“Just a bit,” he answered. “Did you miss me?” he whispered against the warm skin of your cheek.

“Just a bit,” you replied. You both laughed at this and Bucky pressed his lips to your jaw. “What’s London like?”

“Beautiful,” he told you. “You’d love it.”

“How do people dress there?”

“Is that all you care about?”

“Clothes say a lot about people.”

Bucky slid his nose down your neck, inhaling your familiar scent. “Come with me to London,” he said.

“You’re crazy, Buck.”

He groaned, heaving you off the ledge and getting you on your feet. “No, I’m tired of doing what I’m supposed to do and not what I want to do. We’re not 15 years old anymore, Y/N.”

You kissed deeply for a few seconds before Bucky whispered, asking if you wanted to go with him. You smiled and kept kissing him.

* * *

George Barnes looked at his sixtieth fashion show with a grim face, hands in his pockets. He was on the second floor, away from the everyone’s eyes and hidden from the flashing cameras.

Stepping back into his office, he got behind his desk and sat down, taking out a clean sheet of paper and a pen. Quickly writing down everything he needed to say, he folded the sheet and slipped it into an envelope, putting a picture of a woman inside as well. He sealed it and propped it up against his desk lamp, where it would be seen by whomever walked into the room next.

With a deep breath, he got on his feet and took off his jacket and shoes. Downstairs, the show went on, everyone oblivious to what was going on in the seventh floor.

Taking a long drag from his cigar, George blew out the smoke as he faced the opened window. The curtains billowed in the window as he stepped into the night air and climbed over the ledge. The cars zoomed past on the street below him and he took a deep breath, holding on to the stone.

There was a knock on the door and George turned his head towards it, briefly thinking about getting it.

“Mr. Barnes!” called out Nick Fury.

George looked to his front again, deciding not to answer. And took the plunge right after.

The letter on the desk was addressed to Bucky.

After not receiving a response from his boss, Nick decided to let himself in. Gloria was just a few steps behind him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you—” He stopped short when he sat that the office was empty. There was an eerie silence about the room and Nick turned his head to look at the opened windows.

Gloria was about to say something when she saw Nick’s stiff shoulders and her hand fell from where she has been fixing her hair.

Nick faced Gloria and gave her a panicked look, not really wanting to believe his worst thoughts. But he mustered up the courage and stepped up to the window, looking down at the street.

His heart dropped and bile rose up his throat and to his mouth. Sure enough, his fears had been confirmed. George Barnes was no more.

As he turned to meet Gloria’s eyes, she gave a tiny shake of her head, eyes welling up with tears. She refused to believe it.

“No,” she said, voice frail.

Nick didn’t stop to comfort her, instead walking past her and out of the office. Crying, Gloria turned to the desk and sat down on her husband’s seat. Her chin trembling, she began to cry before spotting the letter that had been left behind. Inhaling sharply, she made sure no one was around and grabbed it, slipping it into her purse.

* * *

“We interrupt our program to inform you of a terrible event that has just occurred.” The voice on the radio broke Bucky’s train of thought as he kissed you while driving, his fingers tangled in yours. “Mr. George Barnes, owner of Marvel Galleries, was found dead tonight.”

Bucky froze, his eyes drifting down to the radio. He felt his stomach twist into impossibly tight knots as you pulled away at the news. His heart jump up into his throat and he felt his mind grow vacant of any and all thought. A part of his soul detached from his body and disappeared.

Still in a trance, Bucky’s foot pushed down the gas pedal in the car, his hand barely gripping the wheel, causing the vehicle to swerve. You snapped out of your thoughts with a gasp, lunging over to the other side of the seat, trying to help Bucky regain control. You efforts were for naught, the car veered off the road and smacked against a large rock. Instantly, your world faded into a fearful shade of black. Blood gushed from your nose, down to your collarbones while Bucky’s bloodied face rested on the wheel, unconscious as well. There was a silence in the air as the two of you laid still, fingers still intertwined.


End file.
